Poltergeist
by Moxi the Fox
Summary: Guests at the Grayson Inn are checking in but not out. Rumor has it that a poltergeist is behind the mysterious deaths and previous police reports have declared that all the deaths were tragic but accidental. Can Wallander find out what's really going on before any other guests are sent home in a coffin?
1. Chapter 1

A cold breeze came in through the window blowing under the covers and waking Sten Alfven from his slumber. He rolled over trying to fall back asleep. When he couldn't keep his eyes shut he checked the time. It was three o'clock in the morning but something seemed wrong. A certain feel in the air made him uneasy. Sleeping proved useless so he went to the restroom and washed his face. Checking his reflection in the mirror he saw the harsh eyes of an older man looking back at him. There was no compassion, no passion, only deep set bags under his pale blue eyes. After re-entering the bedroom he could hear a commotion outside his door. He slipped into a pair of old slippers and stumbled towards the antique handle. The outside light flooded his vision and he blinked his eyes several times to adjust. He noticed Paulsen, his headmaid, weeping at the stairwell.

"Oh Mr. Alfven. Something terrible has happened," Paulsen wailed as she made eye contact with him.

He could scarcely process his surroundings but managed to ask her to repeat herself.

"It's him, sir, that damned poltergeist, is back!"

"Not again," Alfven whispered frozen an inch from the door to his room.

"It's terrible! Look!"

Turning his head slightly he couldn't see anything. With much effort he made it to the end of the fourth floor railings and looked over the side. Strung up by his neck dangling and from the third floor balcony was the corps of a middle age man, swinging in the crisp breeze that blew in from the open windows. Alfven's face went white as he began mumbling something over and over again.

"Should we call an exorcist? I don't think the police will do us much good. Even after they arrested that horrid man these things keep happening. I'm telling you Mr. Alfven. It's a ghost you have," Paulsen nodded, pleased with herself.

"Ms. Pauslen, get me Ystad police on the phone," he smoothed his comb-over as he spoke.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt Wallander squeezed the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb as he tried to process what Linda had said to him. He cleared his throat asking what she had said Sure enough, he had not been mistaken in what he had initially heard. His little girl was getting married. At first he felt a wave of anger which quickly subsided and was replaced with a cold sinking sense of abandonment.

"When am I going to see you," he asked sounding more desperate then he had intended.

"Dad, I've got to prepare for the wedding and I've got a job," Linda said on the other side of the phone followed by a long silence, "I'll come see you as soon as I can."

"Alright."

"Dad, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Kurt whispered as he ended the call.

No. He was not okay. Wallander surveyed his sparse living room and decided that he didn't want to be home. He didn't want to be alone. The room looked only half complete and it reminded him of how after Linda's mother had left his whole life felt the same. The first person he called was Rydberg but as his finger hovered over the send button guilt came over him. Poor old Rydberg had two months to live if that. As Kurt thought of the cancer eating away at Rydberg's body he couldn't think to burden him with his loneliness. Next he called Nyberg. He didn't answer. Next he called Anne-Britt but she was on a date with her husband, for the first time in months. He thumbed through the rest of his contacts and a miserable dread took hold. He was alone. Drinking would be dangerous; he kept promising himself he'd stop. He caught a quick glance of himself in the mirror. He needed to shave. There was only one place for him now. Work.

He got in the car and drove recklessly. He hoped he wouldn't run into Hansson who was on patrol that night. Making it to the station without incident he found that here too he was alone except for the skeleton crew that ran the night shift. He didn't recognize any of them except for Martinsson. There was no reason for him to still be there.

Wallander stayed late at the police station only when he was working on a case or to avoid going home. He wondered why Martinsson was still at the station. As far as he knew, Magnus hadn't been assigned a case and for the life of him he couldn't imagine what Martinsson would be avoiding. Not that he knew much about his co-workers anyway. More than ever he regretted the distance he kept from people.

He felt alone enough to try to spark a conversation with Martinsson. He had only wanted some form of human contact and at the moment he wasn't picky. The way Martinsson sat with his legs spread wide open made Wallander want to punch him. Who did he think he was anyway? He saw the way he sat as disrespectful as if Magnus didn't care about etiquette or form. Hadn't his mother taught him any manners? Kurt walked over to Magnus's desk and stood there awkwardly trying to stuff his hands in his pockets. What was he going to say? Small talked seemed too impersonal but he only wanted to feel connected to someone about something real.

"Hi," Wallander began.

"Oh, Kurt, I finished those reports…" Martinsson's voice trailed off as he focus seemed to be elsewhere.

Kurt nodded then cleared his throat, "are you- are you uh, taking care of yourself?"

Martinsson stared at him incredulously, "am I taking care of myself?

"Yeah, are you?"

"Yeah," he answered slowly giving Wallander a look that made him feel stupid.

Wallander remained silent fuming and Martinsson started and stopped many conversations but in the end the two men only discovered that they had nothing in common. Magnus returned to his work as Wallander sat at his desk. His eyes stared at the clock behind Martinsson's head and watched as the little hand approaching the three. About fifteen minutes later he received a phone call from a man named Alfven owner of the infamous Grayon Inn. He asked if Wallander would investigate a serious of mysterious deaths that he was starting to think weren't just part of the "Grayson curse".

"Magnus, we've got a case. You've heard of Grayson Inn?"

"You mean the haunted one? The bed and breakfast where you check in with a suitcase and check out in a suitcase?"

Wallandfer was annoyed at how eager Martinsson always was and how he didn't seem to take anything seriously. They agreed that in order to catch the caper they would have to go undercover. After all, every other cop that had checked out the place swore up and down that the incidents were all accidents. If there was something really going on only the guests knew about it. Since Wallander and Martinsson had not been involved in the previous investigations Lisa assigned them both to the case. She gave them fake identities as Kalle and Marten Zettesberg a father and son from Gothenburg on holiday to visit some family friends in Ystad.

"Well, hello, dad," Magnus smirked as he read their identities.


	3. Chapter 3

"I can't even begin to tell you how ridiculous you are being!"

Kurt Wallander tried to ignore the woman in front of him. As far as he could see the child wasn't ill behaved in any obvious way and he felt sorry for him. He turned to Magnus who shrugged at him.

"If you don't stop, we're getting in that car and going home. Do you understand me?"  
"Mom, I've already told you that I don't want to be here. It's hauuuunted," the little boy whispered, his eyes wide with fear.

Magnus let out a small chuckle. The boy turned on his heels and gave Magnus a dirty look.

"Oh you think you're so tough because you're older than me? Just wait. Ghosts don't discriminate. They'll eat your eyeballs."

Magnus smirked, "ghosts don't eat eyeballs. But they can drag you back to their graves with you."

He lunged forward at the end of his sentence sending the kid back into his tired mother's arms. Kurt shot Magnus a look of reprimand but said nothing. After driving with him for four minutes he wanted to take a nap. How could he ever expect to get through a weekend with him? The entire time Magnus had tried to hold a one sided conversation. He plugged in his iPod and cranked his opera up so loudly that the windows begin to shake. Martinsson rolled his eyes and found his own iPod. Kurt had felt bad because he could see that Magnus had been hurt. Maybe he was as lonely as Wallander. Or maybe not.

"Marten, please don't do that," Wallander let out in a tired voice.

"Well, 'dad', I'm sorry. I'll just stand here with my hands in my pockets like a good boy."

The hotel clerk looked up from his paperwork and let out a long sigh. Wallander read the name plate "Alfven". He noticed the cigarette ashes on his shirt and how strongly he smelled of hard liquor.

"A room for Zettesberg."

Alfven nodded and turned around to his computer. Magnus stared at Kurt incredulously.

"A room? Are you kidding me?"

"Enough," Kurt waved Magnus away.

Magnus turned around and mumbled under his breath, "this is sh-"

"Your key Mr. Zettesberg."

Kurt smiled quickly.

"Come on, let's get settled in, shall we?"

When Wallander unlocked the door both men were too shocked to say anything. It seemed as if they had walked into some sort of a nightmare. Perhaps that should tell Alfven, it seemed like this should have been something he would have taken care of before letting them come all the way up here. Kurt and Magnus were too afraid to even look at each other.

"Great," Magnus said sarcastically.

"One bed."

Magnus took the first step and plopped himself on the bed. He made himself as comfortable as he could. Kurt shook his head.

"We're here for business."

Magnus smiled mischievously, "not pleasure? Awe you disappoint me, Kurt."

Kurt flinched at Magnus using his first name. He'd never told him how much it bothered him, but now it bothered him even more now that they had to share a bed. He began to resent Magnus a little more ever minute and more still when he smiled in that callous way. Sometimes it seemed as if there wasn't even a person inside of Magnus. He was an overgrown teenager to Kurt, but then he remembered his own teenager. His little Linda, when she had tried to take her own life in high school. It pained him to think of her feeling that desperate to end it all. How could he pretend to be Magnus's father if he could even be one for his own daughter? He couldn't even save her when-

But Magnus did. Kurt looked at him. There was a moment when Kurt felt a strong amount of pride for Magnus and almost wanted to tell him thank you. On for a moment though.

"Well we might as well catch some shut eye," Kurt said scratching behind his head.

Magnus rolled over on the bed and turned to Kurt. He got up and removed his shirt. The door to the bathroom shut and Kurt could hear the shower turn on. While Magnus was in the shower Kurt decided to get into his pajamas and lay in the bed. His eyelids grew heavy and he couldn't keep them open and soon he was asleep.

Kurt awoke to the sound of the door shaking and in the hazy vision of his weary eyes he saw a visage. It looked like an old woman in a white gown. His eyes grew wide and he could see everything clearer. The woman was gone but as Kurt got up from his bed a pot flew from the dresser and smashed on the wall just behind where his head had been seconds earlier. Magnus shot up in bed and saw the shards of glass on Kurt's pillow.

"What the hell?"

Kurt whispered to Magnus as he grabbed his gun, "it's here."

"It?"

"The poltergeist."

Magnus laughed as a ghoulish howl came from the door. His laughing ceased. He swallowed hard and turned to Kurt; his eyes wide with fear and a question on his lips. The two men, guns in hand, crept towards the shaking door. A chill filled the room and the old woman emerged from the shaking door. Her mouth hung unhinged and she flew at them and vanished in a cloud of smoke. The high pitched shriek of the ghoul left the room in silence.

"Kurt… what the _hell_ was that?"

Kurt's mouth was dry, he kept his voice low, "that-that was…a very clever illusion."

The young man turned to the old man nodding his head in a way that told Kurt he was trying to reassure himself it was an illusion. They sat down on the bed, covered in sweat and didn't speak again until the next morning.


End file.
